<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Time of the Promise by DebraHicks</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122377">Time of the Promise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks'>DebraHicks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>War of the Worlds (TV 1988)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:28:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122377</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ironhorse and Norton run into serious trouble on the road back home.  It is left to Norton and his computer magic to save them.  </p><p>Published in "Heretic Flotsam #2" 5/1/1992</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Time of the Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The silence was becoming unnerving.  Norton reached for atape, started to slid it in.  </p><p>"Don't." </p><p>Ironhorse's command stopped his hand inches from the dash. Sitting back with a sigh the computer whiz complained, "If you don't like my music, you could have flown back with the others." </p><p>There was no response from the man driving.  Norton would not have thought the colonel to be vindictive.  Norton frowned, but it did seem Ironhorse was determined to make life miserable for him having had the van flown to Grover's Mill. Staring out the window Norton watched the dreary scenery flash by. It was even too late for any of the fall colors to be left. </p><p>He didn't see the ebony eyes behind him glint with amusement. </p><p>Twenty minutes later the towns had thinned out and Norton gave up trying to view the scenery.  "Colonel, how much longer am I going to get the silent treatment?  I've learned my lesson, really."  A little hotly, he added, "Besides, me and the green machine did save the day after all." </p><p>Ironhorse regarded him coolly, very gradually the right side of his mouth twitched in a lopsided smile.  He handed Norton a tape. </p><p>Norton snagged it. "Alright!  Thanks, Colonel." The blaring strains of House of Freaks filled the van. </p><p>Ironhorse winched. "Why can't you like someone normal like Jimmy Buffet?" </p><p>Norton laughed, tapping a rhythm against his leg.  Neither man noticed the motorcycle flashed by them on the two lane highway. </p><p> </p><p>"Give me a break, Norton," Ironhorse agrued.  "There is no way you can convince me that there is a similarity between Bach and anything you've been playing.  Just because they were..." </p><p>There was an explosion, like a backfire and the van swung sideways. Ironhorse fought the wheel over.  "What the ..." </p><p>The driver's window shattered and Ironhorse slumped sideways. </p><p>"Colonel!"  Norton had time to yell. </p><p>The van slowed as Ironhorse's foot came off the accelerator; Norton made a valiant attempt to grabbed the wheel but the seat belt jerked him back. The vehicle crossed the center line, the front tire hitting the shoulder.  There was the scream of tortured metal and the world around Norton disappeared into a whirl of confused color as the van rolled.  Vaguely he heard breaking glass. </p><p>The world settled as suddenly as it had turned.  Norton sat completely still, checking to see if he was in one piece. The van was at a sharp angle, nearly on its side, against a tree. He was laying against the window; the thick seat belt cutting into his chest. Ironhorse was partially hanging above him, also held by his seat belt.  Before Norton could clear his thoughts enough to check the other man the sound of a motorcycle cut into his nerves. </p><p>It didn't take much for Norton to figure out that someone had shot at the van.  The sound of the cycle could mean help or it could mean that the sniper was closing in to finish the job. </p><p>Fighting down panic, Norton scanned the interior for something, anything he could use as a weapon.  His eyes settled on Ironhorse's knife, which had been slipped under the seat. With one elbow on the cold glass, Norton pushed up.  His fingertips touched the leather case, pulled it to him and slid the weapon silently free. He lay still, waiting. </p><p>The door under him was jerked open and through slitted eyes Norton saw a large dirty biker reaching for him. He remained still, fighting panic as the man ripped his seatbelt in half. Norton let himself fall to the hard ground without a sound, trying to maintain the illusion of unconsciousness.  It didn't help, a hand grabbed his throat, and tightened. </p><p>His eyes snapped open and he saw the radiation scars behind the scraggly beard.  Norton lashed out, sinking the knife deep into the alien's stomach.  The deadly grip tightened, spots dancing dangerously in Norton's visions, then they were gone. The alien, stumbled away and began to dissolve. Norton gripped the undercarriage of the van and dragged himself away, taking deep, painfully breaths. </p><p>In spite of all the reports he'd read and the videos he'd seen, Norton was unprepared for the wave of nausea that hit him as he watched the alien thrash about and slowly melt into a pool of white foam.  He sat, stunned for several seconds before fighting it off. Keeping a tight grip on the knife, he lay still, listening intently for some signal that there were more aliens. Cold, winter silence covered the area, punctuated only by Norton's gradually slowing breathing.  After another minute, he shifted, rolling on to his stomach and pulling himself along with his elbows the few feet back to the open door. </p><p>As he struggled to climb in, his hand touched something slippery on the seat.  Sharp eyes glanced up, widening at the blood dripping slowly down from the limp body held in the drivers seat. </p><p>"Colonel!" There was no answer. </p><p>Using the strap around his thighs Norton pulled his legs up and propping them across the seat. Using the steering wheel for lift, Norton completed his climb back into the van.  Shaking hands moved to Ironhorse's throat, afraid of what he would find.  To his relief a pulse beat under his fingers. But when his hand moved to the board chest he could feel swallow breathing and a frightening rasping scrap. </p><p>He pulled back a little and surveyed the colonel's position. If he cut the seatbelt Ironhorse would slide out but Norton wasn't sure he could slow the fall enough to stop the man from further injury on landing.  With a sigh, Norton realized he didn't have much choice. He couldn't do anything to stop the bleeding or check for other injuries until he got Ironhorse out. </p><p>Carefully, with his back braced against the door and his legs out in front of him, Norton used the knife to part the heavy nylon across Ironhorse's chest. The lean body slipped toward the ground, into Norton's waiting arms.  The slide ended ungracefully with Norton knocked flat, with Ironhorse laying on his lap, legs still stretched up into the passenger seat. Forcing himself into a sitting position despite Ironhorse's weight, Norton then pulled the man all the way out.  Taking a deep breath, Norton eased Ironhorse up to rest partially against his chest. </p><p>He took a sharp breath at the blood covering the colonel. Inspecting gently, he discovered to his horror two wounds, one in the left upper arm and another in the left chest.  Holding Ironhorse steady he reached for the dropped knife and started cutting away the ruined white shirt.  As the cloth parted under the razor edge, Ironhorse moaned slightly. </p><p>"Easy, Colonel,"  Norton assured him.  "I've got you." </p><p>The wounds, especially the one in the chest, were not nearly as bad as he had first feared.  The bullet had gone through Ironhorse's arm, it's exit leaving a ragged five inch furrow across his chest. The arm was still bleeding but slowly enough so that Norton was sure once it was bandaged it would stop; the same was true for the crease. </p><p>Norton's natural optimism warred with an unrelenting pessimism. It was the deep rasping sound and swallow breathing that had him worried. Just near the graze he could feel the ribs shift under his slight touch. Broken ribs and the possibility of a punctured lung remained a dangerous possibility. </p><p>"Okay, Colonel,"  Norton said, starting to maneuver out from under the other man.  "Time to call in the cavalry. Or whatever, in your case." </p><p>He put a comforting hand on the barely moving chest, was surprised at a bulge under the shirt.  Curiosity made him pull aside the stiff cotton.  A small, leather bag on a thin strap hung around Ironhorse's neck.  Norton recognized it as some sort of Native American charm.  Norton smiled, surprised to find Ironhorse wearing it.  He was beginning to think that Ironhorse would never reveal everything about himself. Tucking it back in the shirt, he moved away. </p><p>Getting into the van took a long, slow ten minutes but Norton had learned patience very early in life.  He reached for the cellular phone, not hoping for very much; they were miles from the nearest town, at the bottom of a gully in a pass between slight hills. After four tries he tossed the phone out near Ironhorse to try again later. </p><p>He took the laptop computer and eased it carefully to the ground. Stretching and struggling he grabbed the first aid kit, dropping it out between the computer and Ironhorse's legs.  Luck was with them and he grabbed the bedroll that Suzanne had made him bring in case Debi wanted to nap. </p><p>As he started out there was another low moan from Ironhorse. Abandoning caution and grace, Norton let go of the opposite window handle, falling out and landing hard on his right hip. Snagging the kit, he pulled himself along until he was stretched out next to Ironhorse. The colonel was stirring, his good arm reaching toward his head.  Norton held it down. </p><p>"Paul?" </p><p>"Umm.. "  Black eyes tried to open, blinked against the sun. The colonel took a deep breath, gasped in pain. </p><p>"Slow and easy, okay?"  Norton urged. </p><p>"Norton?" </p><p>"Yeah.  Don't move."  He grabbed the door handle above the dark haired man, worked himself to a sitting position.  "You've been shot and then we hit a tree." </p><p>"Oh."  A frown lifted the pale lips.  "You okay?" </p><p>"Fine." </p><p>Before he could continue the implications of his earlier statement caught up with Ironhorse.  "Shot?" </p><p>"An alien..." </p><p>Ironhorse jerked, trying to sit up.  His breath caught and a harsh cry forced itself from between quickly clenched teeth. Norton slipped a large, strong hand behind him, eased his fall back toward the cold ground. </p><p>"Colonel,"  he ordered, "don't do that.  For one thing, you scared the hell out of me. And for another, I think you may have some broken ribs and the absolute last thing we need is for you to put one through your lung.  Okay?" </p><p>Looking surprisingly sheepish, Ironhorse nodded, obviously fighting to control the pain running wild along his nerves. </p><p>Quietly, Norton said, "I killed the alien." Surprise almost overtook the pain in the black eyes that looked up at him.  "I'm not as helpless as I look, Colonel." </p><p>"I have no doubt... about that, Mr. Drake ,"  Ironhorse agreed firmly. Sympathy lurked in the fathomless eyes that studied him. "First kills... are hard." </p><p>"Wasn't the killing,"  Norton explained honestly.  "Was... the afterwards. It's worse than I had thought it would be."</p><p>Abruptly changing tracks, he said, "If I ask you an honest question, Colonel, will you give me an honest answer or a lot of West Point, macho bullshit?" </p><p>Annoyance flashed across the handsome features.  "I feel terrible." </p><p>"Ah, ah, no fair guessing the questions."  Norton wagged a finger at him. </p><p>Ironhorse tried to smiled but it was wiped out as a spasm of pain shook him. Norton's hand tightened on one square shoulder, offering what little he could for comfort. </p><p>"Let's get you patched up, then I'm going to use the computer to sent up an SOS on the phone line,"  Norton said seriously. </p><p>"Gun..."  Ironhorse gasped quietly. "Get my gun.  Blue bag." </p><p>Norton glanced toward the interior of the van, spotted a blue canvas bag that had been thrown to the back by the roll. It was an impossibly long way away.  He sighed. </p><p>"Colonel, it took me ten minutes to get into the van the first time. Do we really need a weapon right now?" </p><p>Ebony eyes looked up into dark brown.  Ironhorse knew what he was asking.  "Might be more... of them." </p><p>Again Norton glanced at the bag, then down at the crimson slowly dripping off Ironhorse's arm.  "I fix you up first then I retrieve the gun then I set up the SOS.  Okay?" </p><p>Ironhorse relented, relaxing back with a sigh.  "I'm all yours, Mr. Drake." </p><p>"Sounds kinky, maybe later." </p><p>Minutes later Norton wasn't sure who was sweating the most in the cold November afternoon.  Ironhorse had bourne the nursing silently, pain etching itself deeper into the drawn face, blue circles staining the skin under the dark eyes.  Twice Norton had been forced to stop to let his hand steady, knowing that every movement of the arm sent pain along Ironhorse's whole body.  He also realized that the worst was yet to come. </p><p>"Paul?"  He squeezed Ironhorse's cold hand. "Still there?" </p><p>"Yeah," came the weak reply. </p><p>"I want to get you on the bedroll, off this ground.  I don't know how long we may be here and it's going to get cold by sundown." </p><p>Ironhorse looked up at Norton.  "Okay." </p><p>Norton pushed himself away two feet, propped up on his elbow and grabbed the roll.  "Can you roll onto your good side? Then I'll unroll this and you can fall back on it." </p><p>Thinking the plan through, Ironhorse nodded.  "Let's give it a try." </p><p>"Grab the van with your good hand,"  Norton suggested. </p><p>"On three,"  Ironhorse ordered. </p><p>With a groan Ironhorse rolled sideways, breath catching sharply as pain ripped across his chest. Norton threw the bedroll out and under him. </p><p>Moving his free hand to the hard muscled back Norton told Ironhorse gently, "Slow now, lay back." </p><p>Norton drew a sharp breath himself as Ironhorse rolled back over, he had gone considerably paler and had his lip clamped firmly between white teeth to keep from crying out. </p><p>"It's over."  With a shaky laugh, Norton patted Ironhorse's hand. "Come on, you remember how to breath, don't you?" </p><p>He didn't get an answer as the cost of the move caught up with Ironhorse and he passing quietly out.  Norton slipped a hand up to his neck.  His pulse was faster, thinner and the specter of internal bleeding rose again. Knowing he was doing little good worrying, Norton awkwardly patted Ironhorse's arm, surprised by the wave of affection that touched him. </p><p>"Don't worry, Colonel.  Norton and his computer are about to do their magic for you." </p><p> </p><p>Harrison would have called the setup elegantly simple. Norton's laptop contained an impressive array of phone numbers, from every police force in the country to Air Force One. He simply instructed the machine to phone every emergency number in the area continuously until someone answered.  The highway they were near was not exactly a deserted road, there was no such thing in this part of the country, sooner or later a police car would go by and the computer would connect. </p><p>Norton checked the signal again, checked his watch again. Ironhorse had been out dozing fitfully for twenty minutes. Listening to his companion's uncomfortable breathing, Norton had set himself a time limit.  If he didn't raise help before sundown he would make the crawl up long slope to the road and hope someone would stop for him.  He didn't like the idea of leaving Ironhorse alone but could see no alternative. </p><p>"Norton?"  Ironhorse's soft voice called him away from his hard decision. </p><p>"Here. Thirsty?"  Norton questioned gently. "I drug out the ice chest. There were still two cokes in it." </p><p>Mention of retrieving things from the van jogged Ironhorse's memory.  "My gun?" </p><p>Handling it carefully, Norton put the weapon in his hand. "All yours." </p><p>A slight smile of relief played across the colonel's mouth. Norton laughed. "Do you sleep with it to?" </p><p>"Only when... lost in the New England countryside..." Ironhorse's voice faded out, eyes drifting closed despite all he could do. </p><p>Norton slid a hand beneath the dark hair, raised Ironhorse's head. When the wet can touched his lips, Ironhorse opened his eyes again. </p><p>The cold liquid eased his throat. "How's... the SOS?"  he whispered. </p><p>"Good."  Norton helped Ironhorse take another sip of the drink.  "Help won't be long." </p><p>Ironhorse nodded. "I have every... confidence." </p><p>The wind sang through the trees around them, chilling the area. Norton watched Ironhorse's good hand reach up and touch his chest. </p><p>"That's a medicine bag, isn't it?"  Norton questioned. </p><p>Dark eyes opened just enough to hint at their color.  "Yes." </p><p>"Your grandfather's?" </p><p>A tolerate lopsided smiled lift Ironhorse's lips. "No. Bags are... person specific.  Father... made for me... before 'Nam." </p><p>He sighed quietly and drifted off again, leaving Norton alone with his worry.  There was a sound from the steep bank behind them and without conscious thought Norton grabbed the automatic that was resting near Ironhorse's right hand and shoved it into the back of his belt as he turned. A wide, genuine smile lit his face at the sight that greeted him. Two police officers were sliding slowly down the hill toward him. </p><p>"Yes!"  Norton cheered.  "The good guys have arrived!" </p><p>The officers reached level ground, waved at him. He waved back as they closed. </p><p>"Boy, am I ever glad to see you two.  Did you get my call?" </p><p>The two exchanged a strange look.  "No,"  the taller of the two finally answered.  "We stopped to check out a deserted motorbike..." </p><p>"And saw the van,"  the other finished. </p><p>They stared at the van.  One officer moved toward Ironhorse. </p><p>"My friend needs help,"  Norton offered. An unexplained chill went up his back. </p><p>The man knelt next to Ironhorse, grabbing his chin roughly, forcing a moan from the semi-conscious soldier.  The second cop stood staring at the pool of slime that had been the biker /alien. Norton glanced at the patch on his uniform; it read New Jersey State Patrol. Norton's blood froze.  They had left New Jersey thirty minutes before the accident. </p><p>"These are the ones."  The first alien said in English, reaching toward Norton.</p><p>The gun was in Norton's hand in one fluid motion, coming up and around. Three shots exploded in the winter day; green slime splattered Norton and the van.  He didn't notice it or the alien's disintegration, rolling toward the second alien, and stopping cold.  The alien had grabbed Ironhorse around the chest, using the wounded man as a shield. </p><p>The inhumanly strong arm tightened around Ironhorse, the pain cutting through his darkness, forcing a moan from between clenched teeth. Norton flinched, weapon steady. </p><p>"Kill him and I'll kill you,"  Norton shouted.  "Let him go and I'll let you go." </p><p>The alien growled, started to squeeze on the colonel's chest. Ironhorse came to life.  With strength that Norton would never know where he got, Ironhorse slammed an elbow into the alien's stomach. In all reality it wasn't much of a blow but it was enough of a surprise that the grip around his chest slackened. Ironhorse twisted away, hitting the ground with a harsh cry of pain. </p><p>The gun bucked in Norton's grip, three shots that threw the alien back into the trees.  It was over as suddenly as it started; the alien was a pile of sludge at the base of the tree. Ironhorse lay curled in a fetal position, rocking with pain and fear-caused adrenaline. He was breathing hard, sweat beading his face, tears leaking slowly from behind eyes tightly shut. </p><p>"Paul!"  Norton stuffed the gun in his belt, grabbed the sleeping bag and pulled himself, toward the colonel. </p><p>"Norton?"  Ironhorse's voice was a thin, agony filled whisper. </p><p>"Yes,"  Norton answered, throwing the heavy bag over the shivering body. "Guess the gun was a good idea." </p><p>"Must have followed... us,"  Ironhorse announced unnecessarily. </p><p>He coughed and panic claimed Norton as blood appeared on the tight lips. Both wounds were bleeding again and Ironhorse's breathing was a painful gasp. Norton was certain that the alien's cruel tactics had finished the job of breaking the ribs that the bullet had started. What else it had done, Norton didn't want to think about. </p><p>The decision Norton had put off earlier was out of his control. Tucking the heavy, down laden material as tight around Ironhorse as he could he said lightly, "Colonel, I think it's time we took a little positive action here." </p><p>The obsidian eyes opened, blinking in confusion.  "What? Action?" </p><p>"I'm going to play Lone Ranger and go for help." </p><p>The joke brought a lopsided smile to the drawn face. "Are you trying to .... call me Tonto?" </p><p>"Nah, defiantly John Wayne, Colonel." </p><p>Ironhorse's smile faded as the implications of Norton's suggestion got through to him.  "How?  Go for help?  Gertrude?" he wheezed, hugging his chest tighter. </p><p>With a sigh, Norton shook his head.  "Gertrude can't take this terrain." </p><p>"No way... too far..." </p><p>"Paul, you need help.  And it's not that far." </p><p>"No," Ironhorse groaned. </p><p>"I excel at the quarter mile belly crawl,"  Norton kidded. "Set the unofficial Jamaican record." </p><p>"Norton..." </p><p>With exceeding gentleness, Norton ran his hand through Ironhorse's raven colored hair, all joking gone from his voice. "Paul, I have to. We both know that. I couldn't live with myself if you died while I sat here waiting for help." </p><p>Ironhorse was silent, staring up into the deep brown that begged his understanding.  "Okay."  Taking a short, swallow breath he added, "Denim jacket... protect your arms..." </p><p>Norton laughed honestly.  "I'm a little big for your jacket." </p><p>Despite everything Ironhorse managed an exasperated look. "Cut the... sleeves." </p><p>"Good idea.  I'll leave you the gun but I'll take the knife." Norton's hand took his friend's cold one. "I will be back, soon, I promise." </p><p>"I know."  Ironhorse returned the grip weakly. "Careful." </p><p> </p><p>The first fifty yards were easy, the ground was soft and the dead grass made a carpet that allowed for easy movement. Despite the helpful terrain it took fifteen minutes to each the beginning of the incline. Norton paused there, staring up at the rocky hillside. Rolling over onto his back he took a deep breath, watching the crystal white clouds in the prefect blue sky, practicing the muscle relaxing exercises that Harrison had taught him.  Behind him he could see the frighteningly still body wrapped in the dark bedroll. </p><p>With a long sigh he pulled the butchered denim shelves from where he'd stuffed them into his belt and wiggled them over his elbows.  At the top of the steep hillside he could just made out the side of the police car the aliens had been using.  He smiled, worries of hoping for a ride forgotten; a patrol car meant a radio. He dug his elbows into the ground, pulled. </p><p>Rocks bit into his arms and the stiff weeds scraped his hands as he used them to try to gain more speed.  He tried not to think about Ironhorse, tried to keep his mind on the target of the black and white parked above him. Norton's thoughts went to his mother, his family and the small church he had spent so much time in as a child. He firmly believed in the power of prayer, had prayed often for Harrison and the team. Now he prayed for strength and for Ironhorse. </p><p>Twice he had to stop and catch his breath, twice his arms cramped so badly he had to roll onto his back and rub them.  All the time the sun sank a little lower in the beautiful sky and by the van a little more of Ironhorse's blood colored the ground. Somehow, through the growing pain in his muscles, the bloody blisters and the rocks he could feel cut into his legs, Norton lost track of the distance.  His hand touched concrete, sharp stones and rounded glass.  Norton's eyes went wide and he looked up at the five pointed gold star painted on the side of the black and white vehicle. </p><p>"Thank you, God,"  he mumbled quietly. </p><p>He was forced to pause again before crawling the last two feet and grabbing the door handle.  It opened easily and the sight of the radio's ready signal almost brought tears to his eyes.  He crawled into the car.  Stopping just before he picked up the mike, he considered the last signs he'd seen, the last roadmarks. </p><p>"This is an emergency,"  he said calmly, holding the button down. "Is there anyone out there? I have a medical emergency." </p><p>Static crackled over the radio, followed by nerve racking silence. After an eternity a confused female voice said, "This is the Honesdale Police Department, please repeat your message." </p><p>"My name is Norton Drake.  There's been an accident on Highway 6, just south of White Hills. There's a..."  He stopped. It was going to be difficult to explain the presence of a police car and no police. "There's a police car and a motorcycle parked on the west side of the road.  The wreck is against a tree two hundred yards off the road." </p><p>"Is there a police officer at the scene?"  The voice sounded even more confused. </p><p>"No."  He didn't give the dispatcher a chance to question. "Look, we need an ambulance!  I think the driver has internal injuries." </p><p>He clicked off.  The first thing he would have to do was contact General Wilson to get this straightened out.  At the moment he didn't really care whether he was thrown in jail or not, as long as Ironhorse got to a hospital. For now there was a burning need to get back to Ironhorse.  He knew it was not a reasonable idea, there was nothing he could do for his friend but he started back anyway. </p><p>He smiled as he started across the sun-warmed concrete. Friend was not a word he would have thought about sticking on the hardline Army officer when they first met.  Despite the easy atmosphere between them lately, Norton wasn't completely sure Ironhorse shared the friendship. It didn't matter, he would not leave Paul alone in his pain. </p><p>Getting down was much easier than getting up; he simply angled himself sideways and rolled down, accepting the added bruises and cuts, landing hard on the level ground.  Having help on the way had recharged Norton's energy and he scrambled toward the man on the cold ground. </p><p>"Damnit, Ironhorse,"  Norton whispered, "you'd better not be dead." </p><p>As he drew closer he knew Ironhorse was alive, the wounded man was shaking under the heavy cover. The climb had taken Norton over an hour and the change in the injured man was startling. Ironhorse was white, his breath barely moving the edge of the grass.  To Norton's amazement, the obsidian eyes flicked open, hand making a desperate attempt to bring the gun up. </p><p>Norton touched his hand.  "Just me." </p><p>Ironhorse's voice was dry, so soft Norton had to move closer to hear it. "Leaving?" </p><p>Norton didn't answer, rolling sideways to the ice chest.  He pulled off one of his ruined denim pads, soaked it in the remaining cold water. Moving back to Ironhorse he wiped it across the creased forehead and tear-streaked cheeks. </p><p>"Already been, Colonel,"  Norton assured him.  "Help's on the way." </p><p>There was no response and the dazed, blank look in the usually piercing eyes scared Norton almost as much as the shivering. Emergency medicine was something he knew very little about but he knew that the October chill couldn't be good for the injured man.  Norton eased closer.  As gently as possible he urged Ironhorse out of his fetal position, rolling him onto his back. </p><p>The movement caused a question to flicker across the lean face. "What?" </p><p>"Just lay still, Paul, let me do the work."  Norton continued his slow steady moves, forcing himself to ignore the soft moans that Ironhorse couldn't control. </p><p>A few minutes later Norton was braced against the bumper of the van with Ironhorse stretched out on top of him, head resting against his left shoulder.  Lastly, Norton tucked the bedroll around them both. With a deep sigh Ironhorse relaxed into the comforting warmth. </p><p>Relaxing was not something Norton could consider. He felt the struggle for each breath Ironhorse took, could see the brown stains of blood on the man's chin and crimson on the still wet shirt.  Bands of tightness encircled Norton's chest.  Unlike Ironhorse and Harrison, Norton had never lost anyone, not grandparents, not parents, not friends. It forced the question on him of how he would handle a loss, the death of a friend. It was not something he had ever considered; despite his prayers, he had never openly thought about losing one of the team members. The very real worry that Ironhorse could die in his arms brought an intensity of pain he would not have thought possible. </p><p>"Good job... should... them more often..."  Ironhorse whispered. </p><p>Confusion creased Norton's forehead.  "Paul?  What do you..." </p><p>He realized that Ironhorse was still unconscious, the pain conjuroring up memories, recent and ancient.  Norton wondered which were worse, how the man lived with all of them. </p><p>The body in his arms jerked with surprising strength. "Harrison! Get the hell..." </p><p>"Easy, Colonel," Norton tightened his hold, torn between not wanting Ironhorse to thrash about and fear of adding to his injuries. </p><p>The colonel stopped fighting, stiffened suddenly.  With a groan he shifted minutely, looking up at Norton.  Norton smiled down at him, watching in amusement as the handsome face darkened at the very close contact.<br/>
"The way I figure it, Colonel, you can't die of embarrassment, whereas shock might give you a bit of trouble," Norton explained lightly. </p><p>To his amazement a slight curve tugged at the right side of Ironhorse's mouth.  "No complaints... Mr. Drake."   The dark head lay back against Norton's chest, just under his chin. Softly, Ironhorse said, "Did this once... keep someone warm..." </p><p>"In 'Nam?"  Norton quessed. </p><p>"No." The raven hair rustled against his shirt, shaking. "Stupid... waste... car accident..."  In a soft voice, he added, "He died." </p><p>Fear roughened Norton's voice.  "Well, we'll have no repeating of that.  Harrison would kill me; Suzanne would kill me." </p><p>Ironhorse seemed vaguely surprised by the idea, hesitantly asked, "Think so?" </p><p>"Count on it, man!"  Norton said emphatically.  "I'd be a little upset myself." </p><p>"Norton?" </p><p>"Colonel, you should..." </p><p>"Sorry... hoped you and Suzanne... wouldn't have to kill..." </p><p>"Nothing you could have done. As you've said, this is war." Norton unconsciously tightened his hold around the strong shoulders. "You do what you have to protect your friends." </p><p>Ironhorse nodded. "Yeah... what it's all about..." he lapsed quietly into darkness. </p><p>Norton patted one drawn cheek. "Hold on, Paul." </p><p>There was the sound of a car pulling to a stop on the highway above them. </p><p> </p><p>The rhythmic breathing that had become so familiar faltered, immediately drawing Norton's attention away from the newspaper. Lowering the overhead light, he rolled closer to the bed. </p><p>In the narrow hospital bed, Ironhorse shifted, tensed. He tried to move but the restraints around his wrists stopped him. The dark eyes snapped open, panic coloring them. </p><p>"Hey, big guy,"  Norton touched his shoulder.  "It's okay. They didn't want you coming awake and pulling something loose." </p><p>The obsidian eyes met Norton's, then glanced around the hospital room.  The colonel relaxed with a sigh. His easy acceptance of the surroundings made Norton wonder how often he'd awaken in similar situations.  There was a surge of affection and admiration for Ironhorse that Norton was getting use to. </p><p>"Okay?"  Ironhorse whispered. </p><p>"Never better,"  Norton assured him lightly. </p><p>With Ironhorse obviously awake he reached up to undo the straps. As he started to pull away a weak hand caught his wrist, turned his hand over. Ironhorse surveyed the bandages that covered the blisters and cuts, followed the scratches up his arm. </p><p>"Never better?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. </p><p>Norton shrugged. </p><p>Ironhorse cleared his throat.  "Thanks, Norton.  I know it was a... long climb." </p><p>"You'd have done the same for me,"  Norton said positively. </p><p>"That's what I get paid for,"  Ironhorse reminded him. </p><p>Two dark gazes studied each other, both following the maze of reasons that had brought them together and the emotions that would keep them friends through whatever they faced. </p><p>Norton smiled, threw his hands in the air.  "I'm sorry, of course that's why you do it, my mistake." </p><p>Ironhorse tried to shrug it off, winched at the move. </p><p>Norton laughed, patting his arm gently. "I promise not to tell anyone.  You ready for some visitors? Suzanne and Harrison should be here any minute." </p><p>Pleasure, and just a little irritation, touched Ironhorse's features. "Shouldn't waste time coming all the way..." </p><p>"They don't see it as wasting time."  Norton told him. "After all..." </p><p>"That's what friends are for,"  Ironhorse finished quietly, a rare smile highlighting the warm glow in his eyes.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>